


Terra Nova

by the_dala



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Developing Relationship, M/M, Post-Star Trek Beyond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dala/pseuds/the_dala
Summary: Leonard might have been woefully out of practice in this, and Jim didn’t have much practice to speak of; but they’d never had trouble finding their way to each other.
Jim and Bones at Yorktown, learning a new way to be.





	

Nobody was quite sure how to define the _Enterprise_ crew’s official mission status, no matter how often they discussed it over drinks. Temporary administrative leave? Mandatory time away? Space limbo? “Sorry your ship crashed, please avail yourself of our state-of-the-art air bubble facilities until someone is willing to drop you back on Earth?”

Whatever you called it, the folks with whom Leonard had spent the past several years tooling about the galaxy weren’t wired for impromptu vacations (with the notable exception of Sulu who had dispatched himself to full-time family duty, to be called only if something blew up or some rare craft flew in). Scotty was overseeing the preliminary construction of the new ship, much to the consternation of Yorktown’s actual chief engineer and the fascination of his shadow Jaylah. Uhura could generally be found volunteering on a satellite shift or at the dance studio run by a famous Betazoid ballerina (fully clothed, as she clarified before the captain could insinuate). Chekov had decided to organize the first annual Yorktown Marathon and was busy planning a looping route through the station and overseeing training plans for half a dozen species. Spock and Kirk, naturally, were hip-deep in whatever diplomatic and strategic planning meetings a grateful Commodore Paris could conjure up while they were available.

And Leonard had somehow allowed himself to be talked into holding a lecture series at the newly renovated medical center. It was a pain in the ass, sure, but also a good opportunity to organize and refine all that research gathering metaphorical dust in memory banks. Hell, he might even be able to publish a paper or two before they set out again. The first lecture, on some of the more notable infections they had documented in the field, was so well-attended that he took two hours’ worth of questions before Admiral Wainwright’s increasingly impatient gestures brought the evening to a close. Leonard could hardly blame the wide-eyed doctors and nurses for getting hung up on freaky alien diseases which caused rapid ageing or a sudden outpouring of repressed emotion.

As it happened Jim was in a late meeting with a group of Vori delegates, so Leonard picked up some takeout on his way home. It was Jim’s quarters they’d landed in four out of five nights — six now, and maybe it was a little silly to be counting but this was still so new that he couldn’t help himself, anymore than he could argue when Jim pulled him down to the little sofa as soon as he walked in. The noodles were congealing and the beer would definitely be warm, but that didn’t seem to matter so much with Jim’s mouth at his neck, Jim’s palm skimming under his tunic, Jim’s knee sliding between his thighs —

— and the door chime reverberating in his ears.

“We could ignore it,” Jim suggested. Futilely, as they both knew he’d promoted an open door policy throughout his captaincy. This wasn’t even the first time Leonard had been subject to such an interruption, although it was certainly the most compromising position.

Leonard raised an eyebrow and Jim sighed.

“If it’s Spock, I _will_ tell him to fuck off in multiple languages,” he muttered, pushing himself off the sofa and padding to the door in his stocking feet.

Leonard rubbed at his flushed cheeks. At least things hadn’t progressed so far that he needed to clutch a pillow over his lap. “I seriously doubt Vulcan is equipped with that phrase.”

“Romulan’s got it,” Jim said over his shoulder with a grin, “or close enough, anyway.”

It wasn’t Spock but a young ensign named Nav. Leonard was surprised that he’d come knocking on the captain’s door at this hour; he was more of a timid type, especially for a Tellarite. 

“Hey, Nav,” Jim said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Everything okay?”

It was palpable whenever he took up the mantle of command once more: in his posture, in his voice, in the depths of his eyes. And watching him, Leonard felt the same familiar ache in his chest. Some complicated tangle of pride and sorrow — and love, of course. Since he was finally being honest with himself and all.

“Yes, sir,” said Nav, as if on autopilot. Then he pursed his lips and shifted from one foot to the other. “I mean, things are mostly fine. Really. It’s just — you said the other day to come talk to you if I still…” Leonard could just see the anxious bob of his throat beneath his sandy beard. His voice dropped to an uncertain cadence and his gaze dropped to the carpet. “I keep thinking about Zaal and Yara, every time I try to close my eyes.”

The fine hairs on Leonard’s arms prickled. They’d all been in Stellar Cartography together. Yara was asthmatic and Zaal had fractured his left radius on Selek IV last year. Both had been lost in the blackness of space over Altamid, presumably to a hull breach. Leonard closed out their charts and Jim sent letters of condolence to their families the day after his birthday.

“Of course — come in.” Jim put a hand on Nav’s shoulder and stepped aside. Nav blanched when he caught sight of Leonard on the couch, tugging on the ends of his sleeves.

“Dr. McCoy, I’m interrupting — so sorry, I can come back tomorrow…”

Jim kept hold of his arm while Leonard waved off the protests, getting to his feet. Poor kid had lost his closest friends and spent days in a cage contemplating his imminent demise; no wonder he couldn’t sleep. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ensign. I’ve got some reading to do anyway. You like Thai food?”

He snagged a protein bar from the tiny kitchenette on his way into the bedroom. That and the warmth in Jim’s half-smile would do him just fine for the night.

The faint buzz of the sonic shower woke him from a doze, padd still resting on his stomach. Leonard stretched out a kink in his back and set it on the nightstand. He was frowning at the chrono when Jim stepped out of the bathroom, an ancient pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms slung low on his hips.

“How’s the kid?”

“Better, I hope.” Jim eased himself beneath the coverlet. Even with the lights dimmed down low, he looked weary and worn. As well he might; a full hour had passed in that common room, preceded by a long day at HQ. No kidding themselves that they were on shore leave despite the cushy accommodations. “He just needed to talk.”

Leonard didn’t point out that Nav had a department supervisor, a network signal strong enough to reach his homeworld with minimal delay, and a team of Starfleet mental health professionals available for consultation. He’d learned long ago that it wouldn’t do a bit of good. At least ( _at last_ ) he was here to look after the captain after he’d done his looking-after — assuming Jim would let him, anyway.

Jim stifled a yawn and glanced sideways at Leonard.

“We could have sex, if you want,” he said with the faintest interrogative lilt at the end of the sentence. For once in his life, Leonard held his tongue against a sarcastic reply. His mama would’ve been proud.

“I’m good,” he said instead, and reached out to run his fingers through Jim’s hair. 

Jim’s lashes fluttered briefly before he blinked himself alert again, but it was long enough to give Leonard an inkling. 

“C’mere.” He fitted his hand to Jim’s nape, drawing him down on the bed. Jim let himself be drawn only so far, hesitation flaring in his eyes and tension squaring his shoulders. That was all right. Leonard might have been woefully out of practice in this, and Jim didn’t have much practice to speak of; but they’d never had trouble finding their way to each other.

He carded through Jim’s thick hair in a slow and steady rhythm. The sonics left it dry, if tousled, and perhaps it was Leonard’s imagination but the strands felt soft as new cotton on his fingertips. It was longer than Jim had kept it since Leonard had known him and a shade or two darker than usual. They hadn’t seen much sun in recent days.

His free arm lay across the pillow, hand open. After a moment Jim settled, dropping his chin to Leonard’s chest and spreading his palm over Leonard’s ribs, where he could feel the beat of his heart. Leonard stroked his thumb over heavy eyebrows, curling light circles at the pressure points above his temples. Jim’s breathing began to even out as he relaxed under Leonard’s touch.

It was easy to forget he was only twenty-nine, though Leonard had been there for each bittersweet remembrance since they’d met. He thought on it now with Jim’s head heavy on his breast. Everything had changed that day — was still changing, in point of fact. Maybe that was just Jim Kirk; maybe it was a butterfly effect, belling out from that clanking shuttle across the throughlines of the galaxy.

“Bones, do you remember —” Jim murmured, and a low wondering laugh broke their repose, echoing from Leonard to Jim and back again. 

When it ended Jim tilted up to kiss him, framing Leonard’s jaw in the hollow of his hand. His eyes were bright beneath simulated moonlight. Then he tucked himself back where he’d been with a huff of contentment. Leonard pressed his face to Jim’s hair, and breathed in the scent of him, and dreamed of new worlds.  
  



End file.
